


Red Clay

by TLImela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:43:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9082792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TLImela/pseuds/TLImela
Summary: And in the hushed whisper of the shadows, somewhere in a cabin in the sticks…the only two people for miles around in the red clay dustbowl that was Nowheresville, Oklahoma…the two brothers gave into the darkness…gave into the desperate, hopeless belief that sharing something like this would only serve to cement the bond that was already forged between them.Growing up, Dean and Sam Winchester have dealt with loneliness and isolation, alcohol abuse by their father, and are haunted by loss and death. Although the brothers forge an unbreakable bond through their shared trauma, they both must face the consequences when that bond takes them to a dark and desperate place.





	

** Red Clay **

****

Dean never really liked Oklahoma. It was too much of a dustbowl, with nothing but dry, red dirt as far as the eye could see. And it was freakin’ everywhere, gathered to the bottom of your shoe, sticking to the perspiration on your skin, and swirling into your throat and lungs and choking you out. There was nothing to do out here either, stuck in a cabin in the sticks, waiting for Dad to get back from hunting…well, hunting _something_.

_Dad hadn’t told Dean what he was hunting this time around, which meant it was gonna be some kinda bad son of a bitch. Maybe even the thing that killed Mom. He only made it clear that they would be here for a while and that the boys couldn’t come with him. Sam and Dad had gotten into another stupid ass fight over that…Sam telling Dad how goddamn foolish he was being for not telling either of them where he was going and what he was up against. But Dad had held firm, and the argument ended in Dean breaking it up as usual, and Sam storming off to his room in anger._

_“Watch out for Sammy while I’m gone.” Dad had insisted, loading his guns and knives into the back of the Impala. “Don’t let him get into any trouble.”_

_Dean felt a small twinge of annoyance. Watch out for Sammy. Sam had just cussed Dad out like a little bitch, and yet, Dad still cared about his youngest son more than anything. There was no insistence that Dean should stay safe as well. But maybe that was okay, because it meant that Dad trusted him, didn’t it? Maybe it meant that Dad knew Dean was man enough to take care of both himself and Sammy, right?_

_“Yes, sir.” Dean nodded, curtly. He bit at the inside of his cheek, feeling that horrible bubble of anxiety well up inside of him…the feeling that he got whenever Dad was leaving him behind and he was helpless to either help him or to stop him. “Be safe, Dad.”_

_Dad gave an acknowledging nod of his head, before climbing into the Impala and shutting the door. Without another word, it started up and drove off…leaving Dean behind, the sticky, red clay swirling around him and clouding his vision of the quickly disappearing car._

“Sam, where the hell are my nachos?” Dean snapped, rummaging through the rusty, old refrigerator that furbished the godforsaken cabin they were stuck in together for the next few weeks. _Why couldn’t Dad have left them somewhere closer to town? Then at least Dean could go to the bar, try to get laid… something to pass the time and to take his mind off of all this damn  worrying. _“You know, the ones I got a few days ago from that diner in Wichita.”

Sam didn’t even poke his head up from the book he was reading, his overgrown body and long legs sprawled against the ratty sofa. The book had to do with psychology or something super nerdy like that.  “I threw them away. And before you bitch about it, you’re _welcome_. I just saved you’re ass from  gettin’ salmonella.”

Sam was being a real peach these days. The only thing bigger than his attitude was his never-ending height, and Dean was secretly very annoyed by that fact. Dean had always been nice and tall for his age, but Sammy was getting absolutely _huge_ …it was the growth spurt that never ended. Sam didn’t appear to be very comfortable in his new body either, and it seemed like he spent a good deal of time either knocking things over or bumping his head.

“What the hell, Sam?” Dean demanded, slamming the refrigerator door shut. “I was gonna eat those!”

“They woulda killed you, Deeean.” Sam snapped, his head now poking out from behind the book’s large binding. The way he said _Dean_ …such a drawling, irritating whine… _and it was just the two of them for the next few weeks. The two of them and the four walls of a cabin out in the middle of dusty, red clay Nowheresville, Oklahoma._

“Look, unlike you, Mr. Sensitive, I’m man enough to stomach food that is only a few days old.” Dean replied, moving over to the couch. He shoved Sam’s legs off, and his little brother gave him that _look_. The one with the disapproving glare, and the flared nostrils, and the pursed lips… _making his little dimples stand out. It was never as intimidating as Sammy seemed to think…more like hilarious. Or adorable_. “Lemme sit down.”

Sam relented, swinging his legs to the ground and leaving a cushion available for Dean. Still, he didn’t let his older brother’s words go without a counter. “And they weren’t a few days old, Dean, they were a few _weeks_ old.”

“So?” Dean demanded, grabbing the remote and turning on the television. _There was nothing on. Of course. They were in Freakin’ Nowhere, Oklahoma. The absolute worst place to ever be stuck…to worry if Dad was okay…to anxiously wait and to try and shut up the part of his brain that wondered if the thing that killed Mom was gonna kill Dad now too._

“ _So_ , I just saved your life, Jerk.” Sam remarked, burying his nose back into the nerdy, giant, college-edition psychology book that he was currently chewing his way through.

Dean woulda threw back an affectionate _‘bitch’_ in Sam’s direction, but he was too anxious and pissed off right now to do so. _Dad could be in trouble…and Dean was stuck in a stupid cabin…completely useless_. He flipped through the channels, irritably. “Just don’t touch my food anymore. If I’m gonna be stuck here with you and your freakin’ O.C.D. for weeks, I at least coulda had my damn nachos.”

Sam shook his head, his lips pressed thinly together. “You’re just pissed off that Dad didn’t take you with him and that he won’t tell you what he’s huntin’.”

Dean felt something angry and dark twist at his insides. He furrowed his brow and his hand clenched around the remote. “Shuddup.”

“I know that’s the reason. And now you’re gettin’ on my case because you can’t…”

“I said, _shut up_!” Dean roared, jumping to his feet and throwing the remote down so that it bounced off of Sam’s chest. They stared at each other for a moment… _and Dean didn’t care how big Sammy ever got, Dean was still the big brother, damn it. Sam didn’t have to tell him a damn thing._ “The _only_ reason that I’m stuck here is ‘cuz Dad needed someone to look out for _you_. So maybe I’m not the one Dad’s trying to get away from, Sam! Maybe I’m not the one he doesn’t _trust_.”

 _There. That hurt—he could see that the words had found their intended target, had wormed right into Sam’s deep-seated insecurities. Well, good!_ Dean felt a twinge of guilt gnaw away at his heart; his little brother’s pained eyes causing him some regret. He wrestled with himself for a few seconds before giving a resolute shake of his head. “I’m goin’ out.”

Sam cleared his throat, his watery-gaze still stinging at Dean. “Where?” He asked, his  tone now softer and laden with worry.

_Damn it. Why did he have to say that crap to Sammy? He wanted things to be good between his little brother and Dad; he wasn’t sure why he had just thrown their strained relationship back in Sam’s face. Stupid, stupid Dean._

“Out.” Dean shrugged, moving towards the cabin’s creaky door.  He didn’t have to clarify, because there was nowhere to go, what with that godforsaken endless red dustbowl outside.  He quickly closed the door behind him, desperate not to look at Sammy’s pained expression a minute longer.

******************************************************************************************************************************************

_Dad had just come home from a job…and it was soon apparent that it had been a bad one. He had a long gash running down his left cheek and two of his fingers were bent back in the wrong direction. Nine-year-old Dean had rushed in with the medical kit, with five-year-old Sammy trailing closely behind at Dean’s heels._

_Dean tried his best to help patch Dad up, a sick and helpless worry rising up like bile and clogging itself within his throat. Sammy was in tears, and Dean had ordered him to go to his room and wait there until Dad felt better, but he hadn’t listened._

_Something was horribly wrong with Dad, and it wasn’t just his injury. He was drunk out of his mind…nearly incoherent as he garbled out angry rants…swaying back and forth as Dean tried his best to keep his father upright and his wound bandaged._

_Eventually, Dean could no longer keep him up, and Dad collapsed onto the floor, completely unconscious. Sammy was bawling now and Dean was beside himself. He was patting his father’s uninjured cheek, trying to get him to wake up, to talk to him… anything to show that he was going to be alright…that he wasn’t gonna leave Dean like Mom had._

_“Dad…Dad, please…” Dean begged, his small slaps to his father’s face growing harder and harder in desperation. “Dad, please wake up…”_

_Sammy was gripping onto Dean’s shoulder with small, chubby hands…endless tears and snot running down his face…messy brown curls falling into his eyes as he continued to wail._

_“Stop…stop all that…racket…” Dad mumbled, breathlessly, his eyes still not opening as he stumbled over the words._

_Dean turned to Sammy in desperation and grabbed onto his little shoulders. “Did you hear him? Stop crying! He wants you to stop crying!”_

_But it was hopeless. Sammy was too far gone, his cries only growing louder and sharper the more he tried to stifle them._

_It was complete chaos…everything spiraling out of control…and Dean just wanted to scream and to break things. But he couldn’t. Because he had to be strong…he had to be strong for Dad and for Sammy. They needed him to hold it together, to take care of them._

_“Dad…please...you have to get off the floor…” Dean blinked back heavy tears as they burned in his bright, emerald gaze. “…let’s get you to bed…”_

_“I’ll go once…once you two stop—stop all that racket…” Dad grumbled, his mouth slack and heavy spit gathering at the corners of his mouth. The bandage on his cheek was scarlet red as his wound continued to bleed out._

_Dean turned to Sammy in desperation. “Stop it!” He snapped, but the little boy would not cease his wailing. Something dark and angry built up inside of Dean… the want to scream and to lash out violently, the room spinning just like his head…and before he knew what he was doing, he gave Sammy a rough shove to the ground. “Stop it, Sammy!”_

_Sammy fell backwards onto his butt. He didn’t land hard, and he obviously wasn’t hurt, and yet this action only seemed to make it more difficult for him to control his tears. He bit down on his trembling lip, his eyes and nose still leaking furiously, his little chest now heaving with pained, dry sobs that struggled to burst past his throat._

_Dean felt something horrible ache within his chest.  He got down on his knees, placing his hands on either side of Sammy’s face, and gently pushed his thick, dark hair out of his eyes. “Shhh. Shhh, please, Sammy. C’mon. Please stop crying. I’m sorry, just—just please. I need you to be brave for Dad, okay?”_

_And Sammy gave Dean the bravest, most pathetic little nod in the world, his eyes still red and puffy with the tears that he struggled to hold back.  It absolutely broke Dean’s heart, and soon he pulled Sammy forward so that his little face buried into Dean’s chest. He hugged him closely, muffling the little boy’s gasping attempt to quiet his sobs. Sammy clung to Dean just as furiously, his snotty nose pressing into Dean’s shirt and leaving a wet spot. The two of them held onto each other, bonded together in fear and helplessness, until Sammy drifted off to sleep in his big brother’s arms. But even then, Dean refused to let Sammy go…until eventually he fell asleep too... and the two brothers spent the night together on the hard, kitchen floor, right next to their unconscious father._

_The next morning Dad was feeling much better. He didn’t bring up what had happened last night, and so Dean and Sammy remained silent about it as well._

_He did take them out to see Traverse City though, even stopping at a small, roadside ice cream shop to buy them both two-scoops of Mackinaw Island fudge._

_“Look at Sammy’s face.” Dad smiled, nudging at Dean with his elbow. Dean glanced over to see that his little brother’s cheeks were completely covered in ice cream, and the two of them shared a warm laugh._

_“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Dad said, gently wiping at Sammy’s chubby cheeks with a napkin. Dean watched him carefully…so thankful that his father loved them so much…so grateful that he wasn’t ever really going to leave them…that he might scare them sometimes, but that he was always going to be there to make things right again._

_Dad took them out to the docks. He held onto Sammy’s tiny hand in order to make sure that his youngest son didn’t get too close to the water. Dean leaned up against the pier’s edge and looked down into the cold lake waters below. A cool breeze rustled through his hair._

_“Thanks for today, Dad.” Dean murmured, so grateful for the fact that his Dad was always so willing to put up with the two of them…with Dean’s tendency to always make mistakes and to screw things up...so scared that someday he wouldn’t want to put up with it anymore…_

_Dad smiled at him, bringing his hand down to tousle Dean’s hair. Dean felt something warm and peaceful swell up in his heart. He loved his father and Sammy so much. No matter what, he could never lose them._

******************************************************************************************************************************************

It had been two weeks. Two weeks of _nothing_ …not even a phone call. Dean would’ve feared the worst, except Dad had done this so many times before. And he was always okay…always came back to them a little worse for wear, and yet, still alive and breathing.

It was a Friday night during the sweltering month of July, and there was absolutely _nothing_ to do. Dean and Sam were starting to go a little stir-crazy; the four-walls of the cabin starting to feel more like a damn prison cell.

So Sammy did some research on that cool, new laptop that Dad had gotten him ( _stolen_ for him, Sam had originally grumbled, but that hadn’t stopped him from accepting the gift), and he found out that there was a small town, population two hundred, only about five miles from where their cabin was located.

And so the two brothers headed out together, a sort of happy buzz now permeating their actions, as they nudged and ribbed each other all the way towards town.

Dean was cracking jokes all while and he had Sam in stitches at one point. _Dean smiled, inwardly. Nothing made him happier than making Sammy laugh_.  The red clay clung to their boots and the hot summer sun beat down on their neck and shoulders. Dean mighta hated Oklahoma, but right now, walking side-by-side with Sammy, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.  This just felt _right_. The two of them, against it all, and it was the only time that Dean actually felt good… _really_ good about who he was and what the world around him meant.

Eventually they made their way into town and found the liquor store. They were giddy with feelings of rebelliousness and freedom by the time they got there, and so Dean ended up buying much more for the two of them than they had originally intended. They got tequila, and whisky, and beer, and vodka…Dad wasn’t around, and so this was all for them, and they could be as crazy and irresponsible as they wanted for the night.

They made their way back to a field near the cabin, the stars just starting to peak out from behind the dusky clouds overhead. They broke into their treasure trove, clinking glasses and reveling in their untamed lifestyle. _For right now…in this moment…it was good to be them. They could go wherever they pleased…do whatever they wanted…what twenty-two year old and eighteen year old had that kind of freedom?_

There was no one around for miles, and so it didn’t matter how loud and boisterous they became.  Sam had always been a bit of a lightweight, and so he became hilariously drunk fairly early on in the night. He was even attempting to _sing_ …it sounded like _‘Live and Let Die’_ by the Beatles, but he was butchering it horribly. So obviously, Dean had no choice but to sing the damn song right along with him…both brothers belting the harmony off-tune into the night…before collapsing onto their backs in a fit of laughter.

The peepers chirped from far off in the distance. It was completely dark by now, but the two boys hadn’t a care in the world at the moment. They were drenched in the soft glow of the endless stars…thousands of them bathing them in their gentle light…no light pollution out here in this Midwestern haven.

“This is the life, Sammy.” Dean drawled, the whisky starting to make him feel warm and drowsy. _And for one guilty moment, he was damn glad that Dad was gone. It was easier…Sammy was always much happier without Dad constantly getting on his case. It was much more peaceful with just the two of them. What if it could always be this way? What if they ever just picked up together and left it all behind…_

“Yeah…this was _great_ , Dean.” Sammy slurred, his hazel, bluish eyes bleary and unfocused from being all liquored-up. “You’re—you’re the best.”

Dean grinned, reaching over to sloppily clasp his hand onto Sam’s shoulder. _Stupid little brother. God, Dean loved ‘im_. “Shuddup, you damn girl.”

Sam chortled under his breath, not taking any offense to his brother’s playful teasing. He mighta been a giant now, but he was still the same sweet, snot-nosed kid that Dean had been taking care of his whole life. _And that made Dean feel good inside…warm and safe…secure._

Sammy made the world worth living in. He was Dean’s everything…brother, confidant, best friend, comrade in arms, and partner-in-crime all rolled up into one. _What if it could always be like this…because when it was like this, it was perfect. Dean didn’t feel chaotic, or helpless, or as if the world were spinning out from under his feet. He didn’t feel unwanted or a screw-up, or just the blunt little instrument who always got the job done. He felt…calm. Centered. Loved._

They lay out in the darkness for hours…not saying a single word…only the peepers and their soft breathing filling up the silence. Eventually though, those dusky clouds grew heavier and darker. Before long, they burst open and rained down on them in endless relief…cooling off the brothers’ scorched skin and breaking the feverish heat that had permeated the night.

Dean and Sam were beside themselves with laughter, trying to run back to the cabin, but stumbling and tripping over themselves in drunken giddiness.

“Damn it, Sammy, you have the stupidest long ass legs now…” Dean gasped, tears of mirth stinging his green gaze, tripping over his brother and landing with a _thud_ into the sticky, red clay…now growing runny and muddy as it clung to Dean’s white tank top.

Sam burst out in gales of laughter…his awkwardness with his newfound height causing him to trip up as well…he leaned back into the muddy, red clay…it clung to his dark hair and dripped down his forehead and cheeks. His dimples were visible even in the darkness, lighting up how childlike his features still were.

Somehow, in their silliness and drunkenness, they ended up playfully tussling each other in the mud. It was a mess…but it was a _good_ kind of mess. The kind that could be cleaned up afterwards, the kind that left no lasting harm. Somehow, Dean ended up with his arm wrenched behind his back and Sam’s elbow digging into his ribs, which was _not_ acceptable…Sam mighta been a giant now, but Dean was always going to be able to kick his ass, that much he was determined of. So with a few clever maneuvers, Dean soon had Sammy flipped onto his back.

Dean climbed on top him, sitting down on Sam’s chest with the fullness of his weight, much to Sam’s dismay. Sammy was now pinned beneath him and at his mercy. Dean laughed, grabbing a big fistful of muddy, red clay and held it threateningly above his little brother’s face.

“Uncle, uncle…” Sam cried, thrashing his head back and forth, playfulness still shining in his bright, sunflower gaze. “C’mon, _Deeean_ , not that!”

_The way Sammy said his name. Such a whining, drawl…so goddamn endearing._

Dean decided to have some mercy, throwing the mud back down onto the ground. Some of it had dripped and flecked up against Sam’s face regardless…leaving a bright, red color that stained his skin… _it looked like blood._ Dean shook his head, bitterly. _Damn it, no. He couldn’t think those kinda things. Sammy was okay…Sammy was always going to be okay. Yeah, their lives were dangerous, sure, but so long as Dean was around…well, nothing bad was ever gonna happen to the kid. Just like nothing bad was ever gonna happen to Dad…_

Dean pushed himself up off of his little brother, holding out his hand to help Sam out of the mud. Sam grabbed onto Dean’s arm with one slick, large hand and pulled himself up. His stature was absolutely towering in the darkness, but he was still just little brother. _And Dean didn’t know why he had to keep convincing himself of that fact._

“Ready to head back, Sammy?” Dean grinned, nudging the mud off of Sam’s cheek with his fist. _There…now it didn’t look so much like blood_.

Sam smiled and nodded his head, still drowsy and content. The rain still soaked into them, but it didn’t matter at this point, they were already drenched beyond hope. The two of them made their way back to the cabin… _breaking out into another out-of-tune rendition of ‘Satisfaction’ this time_ …joking, and nudging, and teasing each other all the way.

Dean smiled inwardly again as Sammy’s drunken, loud laughter pierced the night…head tossed back in complete carefree joy, his dimples on full display.

_This was freedom. They could go wherever they pleased…do whatever they wanted…and how many kids their age could really say that? Sam and Dean had it all in moments like this._

They trudged through the muddy, Oklahoma clay together in growing silence… _Dean trying to ignore the fact that it now ran red like a river of blood…blood like family…blood like death…and Dean tried his best not to think of the sight as a bad omen of things to come._

******************************************************************************************************************************************

_Today was the worst day of the year. It was the day that Mom died. It was the day that Dad went to the bar and didn’t stumble back home until late at night._

_Dean was fourteen now and Sammy was ten. It had been ten years since Mom died, Sammy’s age serving as the constant reminder._

_Dad was currently at the bar, as was to be expected. Dean was trying his best to make dinner, but he couldn’t help but worry if Dad was going to be okay. Sammy was curled up on the motel room couch, watching some cartoon on the fuzzy television screen. The kid had been quiet for most of the day, likely thinking about the beautiful mother he would never know…the mother only from pictures…only from a few, hushed stories, on the rare occasions they were allowed to talk about her…only from whatever fake memories he had cobbled together in his own imagination._

_ It was even worse for Dean. Because all he could think about today was fire so hot it burned off your skin…smoke so black it choked out your life…a small bundle in his arms as he ran outside, never again to look back…his life literally ending in that untamed blaze…his beloved mother gone forever…never able to hold or comfort him again. _

_“I made you a peanut butter sandwich.” Dean said, throwing the plate down in front of his little brother._

_“We’ve had peanut butter for a week straight.” Sammy grumbled bitterly, but nonetheless, he picked up the sandwich and took a begrudging bite out of it. “I thought Dad was gonna go to the store and get more food.”_

_“He couldn’t go today, you know that.” Dean snapped, annoyed with Sammy’s attitude. “I’m sure he’ll go soon. If not, I’ll go out tomorrow, okay?”_

_“Dad doesn’t care about us.” Sammy replied, a hint of pain echoing through his otherwise snippy little voice. “If he did, he’d be home right now.”_

_“Shut up, he does care.” Dean hissed, sitting down next to Sammy on the couch. The torn fabric smelled like stale cigarette smoke and it made Dean’s eyes water. He didn’t like the smell of smoke, especially not on a day like today. “Don’t be a little bitch.”_

_Sammy quieted down, taking another irritated bite out of the peanut butter sandwich. He chewed thoughtfully for a minute before adding, “Then why does he have to drink so much? He scares me when he gets like that.”_

_Dean shook his head, the shame and embarrassment associated with their father’s drinking twisting coldly at his insides. They didn’t talk about those things…why was Sammy always so insistent on bringing it up? Yeah, Dad might drink too much every now and then, but damned if he wasn’t always there for them when they needed him to be. This was the one night of the year when he just…when he just couldn’t. And Dean could appreciate that…today was a tough day for him too…and yet here he was, making sure that Sammy ate dinner and that the guns had been cleaned and the dishes washed…_

_“He’s doin’ his best.” Dean replied, his voice growing softer this time. “C’mon, let’s take your mind off of it.” He grabbed a deck of cards off of the stained coffee table. “Wanna play gin or rummy?”_

_Sam shrugged, but Dean’s attempt to avert his little brother’s troubled thoughts seemed to have worked. “Let’s play rummy.”_

_“Great choice. I always kick you’re ass at that game.” Dean grinned, hoping that his teasing would serve to alleviate Sam’s mood further._

_Sam bristled with indignation, his little face scrunching up as he pursed his lips together. “You do not, Deeean!”_

_Dean smiled to himself as he shuffled the cards. He glanced up at Sammy, a soft warmth entering his heart. Stupid little brother…what a sweet kid. Damn he loved that little pain in the ass so much._

_They played for hours, each winning a game, and the cold, lonely motel room was soon filled with playful taunts and incessant chattering._

_“Rummy!” Dean shouted, excitedly, as Sammy flopped backwards onto the couch in defeat. “I kicked you’re ass again, bitch.”_

_“You cheated.” Sammy insisted, grumpily._

_“Aw, don’t be a poor sport, Sammy.” Dean chuckled, giving him a quick slap on the arm. “C’mon, let’s do one more round. I’ll go easy on you this time…”_

_At that moment, the door to the motel room slammed open. Dean and Sammy instantly fell into a hushed silence, all of the playfulness sucked out of the air._

_Dad stumbled into the room, his face darkened and ruddy from the cold autumn night air. He peeled off his coat and tossed it onto the ground before making his way to the refrigerator._

_“Hey, Dad…” Dean began, carefully. Their father sometimes had a terrible temper after he had been drinking, and Dean didn’t want anything to set him off. “I can make you dinner, if you want somethin’…”_

_“There’s no damn food.” Dad grumbled, slamming the refrigerator door shut. Dean fell quiet again, subconsciously inching closer towards Sammy on the couch. Dad turned to Dean, his eyes frighteningly wild and unfocused. “I thought you were gonna go to town and get food?”_

_“I thought you wanted me to clean the guns…”_

_Dad slammed his fist down on the counter and Dean immediately stopped talking. He felt Sammy reach out to grab onto his sleeve…Dean’s hand instinctively wrapped around Sammy’s wrist to do the same._

_“Nobody does anything around here.” Dad growled, bitterly, shaking his head back and forth as he moved towards the living room. “Nobody does a goddamn thing around here!”_

_Dean and Sammy continued to hold onto each other’s sleeves, their eyes falling down towards the ground. Dad never hurt them, but they hated seeing him like this…it was…it was scary, to see someone you loved so far gone and out of control._

_“What the hell were you two doing all night anyway?” Dad snapped, glancing down at the cards that lined the coffee table. “Playing games? Playing damn games on the night that your mother died? Huh? You think that’s okay, Sammy?”_

_“Dad, it wasn’t his fault…” Dean began, softly, but another slamming sound caused him to lose his voice again._

_“Yeah, it was his fault. It’s always his fault, always shirkin’ his responsibilities.” Dad shouted, clearing all of the cards onto the ground with one swoosh of his hand and slamming his beer bottle down on top of it. “Playin’ on that damn computer of his, never liftin’ a finger around here…”_

_Dean looked over to see that Sammy was going inside of himself again; his eyes glazed over with stinging tears, but his stare somewhere distant and far off._

_“Huh? You even listenin’ to me, boy?” Dad snapped, clapping his hands together and causing Sammy to give a small jump. He reluctantly looked up at their father, his bottom lip trembling slightly. “You even give a damn about what happened to your mother today? Or you only care about playin’ sports or the ‘science fair’ or whatever the hell it is you care more about than helpin’ your own damn family…”_

_“Dad…” Dean pleaded, his heart aching in his chest. This was his fault. He shoulda went into town and got food, instead of playin’ games with Sammy. Now Sammy was gettin’ chewed out and it was all his fault. Damn it, Dean, damn it, damn it._

_“Don’t even get me started on you, mister.” Dad slurred, pointing an accusing finger in Dean’s face. “You should know better. I thought that I could count on you…that I could trust you. But no, you don’t give a damn ‘bout anythin’ either. I asked you to take care of the place while I was gone, and I come home to find out you ain’t done shit. No wonder Sammy doesn’t do nothin’ around here, look at the example you’ve been!”_

_“Yes, sir.” Dean mumbled, the words rolling off of his tongue like a thick, leaden molasses. God, Dean was so damn stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid…why had he played games all night instead of doin’ stuff that woulda made this horrible, godforsaken day easier on Dad? Dean knew what this day meant… for both of them…and it had been his responsibility to make sure that it had gone as painlessly as possible._

_“I want you both in bed now.” Dad snapped, swaying on his feet in front of them. He slammed his fist down on the coffee table, causing both boys to jump. “Now!”_

_Sammy was crying into his pillow by the time they got to their room. Dean didn’t know what to say, so he simply sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on Sammy’s back. They stayed there together in silence; Sammy’s muffled sobs pouring into the pillow, as Dean continued to rub comforting little circles against Sammy’s shoulder blades. And although neither spoke a single word that night, it was without saying that the intense loyalty forged between them only grew deeper and more impenetrable._

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Three weeks. Three weeks stuck in a damn cabin in Nowheresville, Oklahoma. And not a single word from Dad. Nothing but radio silence. There was of course the unspoken question… _was he even still alive?_...but neither Sam nor Dean ever dared give voice to that.

They were starting to feel as if they were going just a little crazy. Even the trips to town weren’t enough to take the edge off anymore. Dean bedded a few of the ladies, but it was too small of a place. Word got around too fast for him to keep up the charade that he was always the exact man that each woman had been searching for her entire life. So Sam and Dean spent most of their time in the cabin now… _and Dean was growing so agonizingly bored…and horny…and he was sick to death of jerking off. He didn’t know how much longer he could take it, his mind starting to torment him with the dark thought that something horrible mighta happened to Dad. Why else wouldn’t he even call? Why else would he just leave them here…abandon them…abandon Dean just like everybody else always did… just like all of the ladies who left him once the morning light interrupted their brief, passionate embrace…just like Mom had left him, consumed by fire…_

The only person who never left him was Sammy. And as three weeks slowly and tortuously crawled into a month, Dean couldn’t stop thinking about that fact. _The only person who never left him was Sammy._

And so the boredom and tension began to mess with him, mess with his mind. There was a growing need to do something… _anything_ …in order to take that damn edge off…something to simmer down the never-ending agony that ate away at his insides. _Dad might be gone, but at least there was Sammy…Sammy wouldn’t ever leave…Sammy could never leave, Dean wouldn’t ever let him…_

The summer sun beat down on them with increasing intensity, and the cabin had no freakin’ air conditioning, of course. So Sam and Dean had taken to sitting out on the porch, shirts cast aside, allowing their perspiration to drip down their bodies in an attempt to keep cool.

_Sammy had been bulking up over the course of the past year. He wasn’t just tall now; he was getting broad and muscular too. But that didn’t mean that he still didn’t need Dean to protect him anymore…that was Dean’s job, after all. And it always would be, no matter what._

The nights were unbearably hot too…and there was no relief in anything they did, in anywhere they went. _With every passing day and no word from Dad, their unspoken fears growing more and more debilitating._

Dean had become used to dealing with his boredom and anxiety through some kind of sexual outlet. It was one of the only ways he could cope sometimes, the feel of connection and closeness keeping his darker impulses at bay… _but he didn’t have that option now either. And the nights were so hot…and he woke up so many times aroused and drenched in sweat…the four walls of the cabin the only thing there to greet him…Sam’s snoring form lying sprawled somewhere on the bed just a few feet away from his._

Finally, Dean reached his breaking point. He woke up again on another swelteringly unbearable night… _the peepers loudly sounding from outside his open window. The window didn’t help much though; there was no breeze in red clay, dustbowl Oklahoma_. He was hard again too, his whole body prickling with both sexual frustration and general anxiety. _He glanced over at the cellphone on his night stand. He had broken down and called Dad about several hundred times, but the man never answered. That didn’t mean anything though. It certainly didn’t mean that Dad was hurt…or that the hunt hadn’t gone well…or anything worse…_

Dean turned his head on his pillow… _the lumbering giant was still sound asleep, snoring louder than all of the peepers combined. Typical_. Dean moved onto his back, his eyes trailing up towards the ceiling… _this damn cabin…if he had to be stuck in this damn cabin for another single day…for another single minute…_

Sam gave another loud snore, and Dean clamped his hands to his ears in desperation. _He couldn’t take this anymore…he was climbin’ walls…and he was gonna lose it in about a second._ He swung his legs around out of bed, his feet landing on the hard wooden floor. He stalked over towards Sam, intent on smacking him over the head in an attempt to shut him up. But when he got there… _big baby slumbering peacefully in his bed, feet hanging off the end, soft eyes fluttered shut, mouth slack and slightly drooling_ …Dean stopped in his tracks.

 _He was suddenly overcome with a nearly overwhelming urge to reach out and to caress his soft face._ Dean felt something heavy and hard settle in his throat. _He wanted to touch Sammy…to have some kinda physical connection with him…he was goin’ outta his mind with worry and helplessness…and he needed something to take the edge off. _ Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, wincing when it creaked loudly under his weight. Sam stirred lightly, but he did not awaken. Dean released a small sigh of relief, his hand stretching out hesitantly towards the soft, wispy tendrils of hair that curled around Sammy’s ears. _His thumb and forefinger lightly pinched down, twisting those curls gently between his fingertips. Dean hadn’t realized how desperate for physical touch he had been, the suffocating heat of the cabin clogging up his lungs like all of the dust from the red clay. But thumbing Sam’s hair right now felt like river water rushing over him, something to cool the burning ache in his feverish skin._

Dean allowed his hand to slip down and lightly caress the warm skin of Sam’s cheek. _Sammy’s breathing was slow and relaxed…soft little puffs of air escaping his lips with every exhale._ Dean loved Sammy so damn much… _and he was overcome with a sudden desire to touch Sam even more intimately than this_. Dean felt his heart thud anxiously up against his constricting chest. _But not in some perverse, sexual way, of course. Dean mighta been screwed in the head, but he didn’t have those kinda feelings for the kid._

Dean was still completely hard, and the sensation of heat and fullness without release made him grit his teeth in frustration. _He coulda took care of it himself, but he was sick of being alone. He needed human touch…he needed physical, human connection._ His hand brushed across the heated skin of Sam’s lengthy neck, it was coated with a thin sheen of perspiration. _Did touch always have to be sexual…did it always have to be wrong? They shared everything together anyway; they always had, so why couldn’t it just be a way to cement bonds, to deepen connections…to hold onto something so tightly it could never hope to leave you?_

_And Sammy was the only one who never left him. He was the one who was there when Mom died…when Dad had fallen unconscious to the floor in a drunken stupor…he was the one who was there whenever Dad stumbled in from the bar late at night, his temper flaring…Sammy was the one who was there after every bad hunt and every horrible nightmare…and he was here now….tonight…when Dean desperately needed some kind of emotional connection, some kind of physical touch._

Dean silently slipped under the covers, his body pushing flesh up against Sam’s. His arousal dug into Sam’s knee, but that couldn’t be helped, the bed was too small for anything else. _Still…_ Dean gasped a small sigh of relief, the pressure to his aching cock coursing up through his stomach and chest and rushing through his overheated skin like cooling waters. _It was okay, he just wanted to lay here…they shared everything anyway, there were no secrets between them…and the bed was too small to move over…_ Dean reached out his trembling hand and cupped it to Sammy’s soft cheek. _This wasn’t about sex, this was about comfort. And Sam was the only one here…the only one who was always going to be here._ He craned his neck forward, his swollen lips dying for just a moment of reprieve, something to soothe the fire that burned in his belly… _to soothe the worries and fears that plagued his tortured mind_ …and he pressed his mouth gently into Sam’s warm, pink lips.

 _Oh god. Oh god. This was so wrong, so freakin’ screwed up. But it also felt so damn good…it was the physical touch that Dean had been craving. And Dean wasn’t doing this just to be some sick-in-the-head pervert. This was Sammy. The two of them were like one soul anyway…an impenetrable bond having been forged between them over the years. _And so Dean pressed in a little harder, his arousal twitching and his stomach leaping, as he tasted the fullness of Sam’s mouth, their overheated, sweaty bodies pushed together in the darkness.

But it was at that moment when Dean realized that he had pushed it too far. Sam’s nose scrunched in confusion as he stirred, his bright, hazel gaze fluttering open…his unique, curved eyes widening in both disbelief and slight horror… _oh god._ Dean’s heart sank like a rock into his stomach. _Oh god, no…how would Dean ever hope to explain this…?_

“ _Dean…what the hell_ …” Sammy began to gasp, but Dean quickly moved his hand up to cover the younger man’s mouth completely… _to stifle whatever horrible things he was likely about to accuse Dean of…the taboo word hanging in the air like a heavy fog._

Sam struggled under Dean’s punishing grasp; his arms coming up to powerfully shove Dean away from him. Dean went crashing onto the hard floor, the covers still tangled around his legs. He desperately attempted to cover his now-straining arousal, his cheeks flushing red in humiliation.

“Dude…what…the…hell?” Sam stuttered, wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist. His eyes followed Dean closely, disbelief and a twinge of anger painting his stony gaze. “Is this some kinda joke?”

And for a brief moment, Dean wondered if he should just go along with that reasoning. _Yup, it was just a joke. I really gotcha, huh, Sammy?_ But not only did that ring extremely hollow and false, it also didn’t solve any of Dean’s problems. _Like the fact that he needed something to screw…to help make all of this bottled-up pressure go away before he exploded…and Sammy was just there. Sam was always there…but it wasn’t like Dean was just using him…it was because he loved Sammy that he wanted to do this…loved him more than anything or anyone else in the entire world…even more than he loved Dad._

“Sammy, look, I can explain…” Dean began, but one glance at the concerned look on Sam’s face caused him to helplessly trail off.

Sam shook his head, his nose still scrunched in confusion. “I just woke up to find you kissin’ me, man, how do you _explain_ that?” He rubbed at his lips as if Dean had just committed some kind of unforgiveable betrayal. “ _Shit_ …”

Dean felt his jaw clench, a hot and bitter bile rising up into his throat. _How dare Sam act like he was the messed up one—as if Sammy wasn’t completely screwed to hell too. There was nothing wrong with Dean…nothing wrong that wasn’t also just as equally messed up within Sammy’s head…and plus, Dean had done everything for the kid… everything…and he’d be damned if Sam was gonna look at him like he was some kinda sicko now…not after everything Dean had sacrificed so that his little brother would always be okay. That was love, not a sickness, damn it. And it was all they ever had._

Dean scrambled back up onto his feet and climbed into Sam’s bed once more, his body angling so that he pinned Sam up against the back wall. Sam started struggling again… _and he was damn strong_ …but he was still very awkward with his new, lengthy form, and Dean knew how to use his own to its full advantage. He roughly moved his hips forward in order to pin up against Sam’s and keep him immobile, one hand lurching down to grip around Sam’s wrists. His fingers burned into the younger man’s skin, his other hand reaching down to clasp around Sam’s mouth and nose.

“ _Stop it…stop it, just stop struggling!_ ” Dean growled, as Sam bucked and wriggled against him, all of Sam’s desperate movements sending an electric jolt through his arousal and up into his spine. “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?” Dean insisted, his knuckles turning white as he kept his hand tightly clamped around Sam’s mouth. “You _know_ I would never hurt you…”

“ _Shit…_ ” Sam’s voice came out strained and muffled, the bridge of his nose and his cheeks flushing a bright red. “ _Oh, shit…_ ”

And Dean knew exactly what Sammy was cursing about so profusely. He could feel the beginnings of something hard and sharp as it dug into his stomach… _and Dean felt a warm sense of relief seep into him. Trying to tell himself that Sammy getting hard meant that he wanted this too, and ignoring the fact that he knew that wasn’t always the case._ Sam looked beside himself with embarrassment, however, as his body slowly stopped straining and fighting against Dean’s demanding grasp.

Dean tried to give him a comforting smile, slowly removing the hand from around Sam’s mouth… _now that he was certain that Sammy was going to behave himself_. “See? See, I told you, it’s gonna be okay…”

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing coming out soft and shallow, as Dean began to lightly rub his hand down the hard, firm muscles of Sam’s chest and stomach. _It was always just him and Sam against the world. Always the two of them…the only reason they had survived this long was because they had always stuck together_. Dean’s hand finally reached the elastic of Sam’s sweatpants and he felt the younger man’s body tense up. Dean hesitated too, the gravity of this action not lost on him… _and yet, he didn’t care. It didn’t have to be anything sexual…it was just about taking the edge off…it was just about cementing bonds, deepening connections…and they had always shared everything together anyway._

“What are you doing…?” Sam groaned, helplessly, the heaviness of Dean’s large hand pressing down against his lower stomach.

“Let me take care of you…” Dean whispered, his lips pressing flesh up against the shell of Sam’s ear. The soft wisps of dark curls tickled at his nose. “You trust me, right? You trust me to take care of you?”

Sammy opened his eyes…and they were filled to the brim with tears. This almost caused Dean to withdraw his request entirely, until he saw that something else was also present deep within that watery gaze. _Something that burned even stronger than the tears_. Dean gave a small nod in understanding. _Sammy did want this too. He was also struggling with the boredom and the anxiety and the horrible chaos of not knowing whether their father was alive or dead. He also needed something to take the edge off, and he was trusting Dean in this moment to do just that._

Dean slipped his hand down the front of Sam’s pants… _he felt Sam tense and shiver, but he made no assertive movement to stop Dean_.  Dean sucked in a deep breath, his hand wrapping firmly around the warm, quivering flesh of Sam’s already prominent cock. _And Sam’s whole body tensed against him once more, a small, breathy moan escaping his lips._

Dean gave another small, comforting smile and nodded his head. “Hey, hey—I gotcha…I gotcha…Imma take care of you, alright…just like I always do…”

_And in the hushed whisper of the shadows, somewhere in a cabin in the sticks…the only two people for miles around in the red clay dustbowl that was Nowheresville, Oklahoma…the two brothers gave into the darkness…gave into the desperate, hopeless belief that sharing something like this would only serve to cement the bond that was already forged between them._

Dean kneaded his fingers passionately against Sam’s scorched flesh… _his large, green gaze boring right into Sam’s pleasured face with an almost frightening intensity…watching as Sammy came undone beneath his experienced touch, his bright, hazel eyes glazed over with desire, his mouth parted soundlessly, his chest beginning to rise and fall heavily…both of their damp foreheads nearly touching…both of their breathless gasps the only indication that anything untoward was happening between them beneath the sheets._

Dean pumped Sam hurriedly through his fist, his actions firm and purposeful… _he didn’t want to drag this out for very long. Sammy wasn’t a virgin, but he didn’t have as much practice with holding himself back either, and Dean knew that he was already starting to make his upward climb._ Dean squeezed his forefinger and thumb around Sam’s tip, while leaning forward to press hungry lips to the base of Sam’s neck… _tasting the salty perspiration found there…pleased to death when he heard Sam’s dark moan pierce the hushed silence. He loved Sammy so damn much…and Sammy loved him. He never felt like this about anyone else…he never felt this safe, this complete, this needed, this secure…his world finally made stable and concrete whenever Sammy was near…and now there was this…this physical touch, this emotional connection…it was so necessary, it was something they needed…they always shared every piece of themselves anyway…well, this was just the final piece…_

Sam’s face and chest were starting to flush, his soft gasps slipping past his parted, pink lips more and more breathlessly. He tightly squeezed his eyes shut as his head drooped, his hips starting to give involuntary jerks up into Dean’s tight grasp, his thighs whispering with tremors.

“No, no, no…” Dean murmured, his other hand grabbing onto Sam’s chin and forcing his head back up to look at him. “Look at me… _look_ at me. I wanna see you, Sammy…”

Sam quickly nodded his head, the wild intensity of his eyes now burning right into Dean’s fiery gaze.  _And Dean felt his own need grow even hotter and harder as all of his blood seemed to drain down into his dick._ Dean kissed at the younger man’s neck again, his hand giving firm and deliberate strokes downward. _Sam’s gasping and panting now intensifying, as his whole body started to tense up._ Dean stared deeply into his brother’s glazed eyes… _suddenly scared at what was about to happen, but having gone too far to back down now_.  He gave another tight, twisting stroke… _and Sam’s whole body convulsed…a short, stilted cry breaking through the silence…as something wet and hot spilled over Dean’s hand and onto his stomach…just like the red mud had the night they spent out in that field…red clay like blood…red blood like family…_

He stifled Sam’s cries by pressing his lips firmly up against his brother’s. He twisted his jaw to the side, moving his mouth deeper into Sam’s, his tongue probing into him, drinking him down as thoroughly as possible.

And then he felt Sam move his freakin’ huge hands up so that they were cupping either side of Dean’s face.  The younger man’s long fingers tangled into Dean’s hair, pulling slightly, as they continued their frantic kiss, clinging to each other just like they had their entire lives.

Sam eventually broke away with a breathless sigh, his chest still heaving and his face still preciously flushed. He stared at Dean with a look that bled both adoration and uncertainty… _and he looked so damn sweet and innocent, just like he always did. And for a brief moment in time, he was little brother again, and Dean felt a heated shame burn like liquor in his chest. But Dean wasn’t ready to wake up from this insanity yet, he was still hard as a rock and he needed Sammy to give him some kinda relief too._

“Touch me.” He ordered, grabbing onto Sam’s wrist and guiding his hand down to Dean’s own throbbing cock. “Yeah… _like that_ …”

_And god he wasn’t going to last long at all. This had been building up within him for weeks now, and having watched Sammy come undone had already nearly done him in too. Dean’s whole body shuddered, his chin dropping down towards his chest, his hands coming up to tenderly stroke and caress his brother’s soft, curly mop of hair._

Dean released a choked grunt as another wave of pleasure crashed over him. Sam’s lips were now on his throat…his Adam’s apple… _and damn it, did Sammy just bite him?—_ and that’s all it took. With another agonizing flick of Sam’s wrist, Dean came crashing over the edge… _he squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth and hissed, the spasms rocking through him as he tapered and twisted like a flame. For a brief moment, he couldn’t even breathe, and he dropped his forehead flesh up against Sam’s heaving chest and buried his trembling lips into the drenched, burning skin found there._

 _God, yes. This was exactly what he needed. He felt relief and sanity crash back through his brain, his skin now breaking out into a cooling sweat. And it was okay that this had happened with Sammy…because they always shared everything together anyway_.

Dean pulled Sam tightly into his arms… _overgrown baby brother still fitting under the crook of his arm_. He pressed his cheek flat up against the top of Sam’s head… _the soft, brown wisps of curls still tickling his nose_. “I told you I’d take care of you…” Dean breathed out, relieved when he felt Sam wrap his long arms around Dean’s waist and pull him in closer too. _They clung onto each other tightly, just like they had their entire lives_. “Just like I always do.”

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_It was one of Dean’s best memories._

_Dad and Dean had hunted down a shapeshifter together out in Oklahoma. It had been a dangerous, down-and-dirty fight but they had come out on top. Sure, they also came out covered in dusty, red clay but it coulda been a lot worse._

_They came home to Sammy, who had helped them by reading up on the lore and making a map of all the shifter’s known victims._

_“Sammy’s a smart one.” Dad insisted, tousling his youngest son’s mop of dark hair. “I tell you, Dean, the brain this kid has…too smart for me.”_

_And Dean had never seen Sammy give a bigger smile in his life._

_Then they sat out on the porch that night, drinking beers together, laughing, talking about old hunts, and singing Led Zeppelin songs._

_Dean loved it out here. He loved being out in the sticks, just the three of them, miles away from anyone and everything else. This was freedom. He loved Dad and Sammy more than anything else in the world…and nothing made him feel safer or more secure or content than just lying back up against the porch steps and watching his father and little brother’s smiling faces flicker under the soft glow of the moonlight._

_But then, like most things in Dean’s life, the contentment didn’t last for long. Dad ended up drinking too much and he started telling both of them off. Sammy had just turned into a pissy teenager and he and Dad quickly got into another awful fight, voices rising and tempers flaring. Dean had tried to break it up, but it was no use. Sammy had a mind of his own these days, and it was only getting worse._

_Even though Dad continued to chew him out some, Dean finally helped his father get into bed. Dean rolled him over onto his side, hoping that it was okay that Dad felt so cold and clammy to the touch, and waited by his bedside for a moment to make certain that Dad wasn’t gonna start hackin’ or chokin’ on his own vomit._

_He seemed okay, and so Dean shut the door to his room and headed back out onto the porch steps. Sammy was sitting on the bottom step; arms wrapped tightly around his small, lanky frame…his face shrouded with a trembling anger._

_“You didn’t have to go off on the man, Sammy.” Dean grumbled, taking a seat on the porch next to his little brother. “He’s doin’ his best.”_

_Sammy hissed through gritted teeth, his hands bawling up into fists at his sides. “Dean…don’t—don’t even talk to me right now.”_

_Dean rolled his eyes, irritated by Sammy’s worsening stubbornness. “Oh, please, you aren’t actually pissed at me now too, are you?”_

_Sammy shook his head, his lips pursed tightly together. “You always…” He trailed off, his breath coming out heated and bitter._

_Dean clenched his jaw, his own temper starting to rise up in his chest. “I always what?”_

_“You always take his side!” Sammy burst out, turning on Dean with a growing ferocity. “You always take his side, even when he’s bein’ unfair to you too…”_

_ And Dean didn’t need to hear this right now. Not from Sammy. Not about how things were so freakin’ jacked up in this family. _

_“Yeah, ‘cuz I’m a good son.” Dean spat back, heatedly._

_Sammy stared at him in disbelief. “You know what? Bite me, Dean.” He snapped, before jumping up onto his feet and quickly taking off towards the open field._

_Dean cursed under his breath. “And where the hell do you think you’re goin’, Sammy?”_

_Sammy didn’t answer, he just kept walking towards that open field, hands shoved into the pockets of his grey hoodie, his shoulders stooped like a moody little bitch._

_“SAMMY!” Dean shouted, breaking into a run to catch up with him. He caught Sammy by the shoulders and spun him around to face Dean. “I said where the hell do you think…?”_

_“I hate it here!” Sammy cried out, his face flushed and his eyes burning bright with unfallen tears. “I hate it here, Dean! I hate it…and I hate him…”_

_“Stop it.” Dean demanded, heatedly. “You stop sayin’ that.”_

_“No, I won’t!” Sammy hissed, his teeth clenched and his fists shaking. “Now I don’t wanna be anywhere near him right now…”_

_Dean grabbed Sammy roughly by the arm and pulled him close. “Now you listen to me. You get you’re ass right back inside, you hear me? I’m not lettin’ you run out to god knows where and get into who knows what kinda trouble.”_

_“Let go of me, Dean…let go…” Sammy struggled, but it was no use. His older brother was still a lot bigger and stronger than him.  Eventually he gave up, and he resigned himself to returning to the cabin with Dean._

_Still, the conversation had upset Dean greatly. Sammy saying that he hated living with Dad and Dean. Sammy wanting to leave… Sammy always wanting to take off and leave for some damned reason. And Dean had been able to make him stay that night…but only because he was so much bigger and stronger than Sammy…and that wasn’t a good enough reason. No, Sammy shoulda staid because he wanted to. Because he belonged here…because Dean had nothing if Sammy left. Because then it would just be Dad and Dean all alone…and—and who would be there to cling to whenever things got really bad if Sammy was to go?_

_That conversation continued to haunt Dean for a long time, even after Sammy had gotten back into better spirits. And when they left the next day for South Dakota, Dean remembered looking out the Impala’s window… out at that red clay road… red clay like blood…red blood like family…and it was then that he decided that he never really liked Oklahoma very much._

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 _He could hear the birds chirping just outside the open window._ Dean’s eyes fluttered open…the cabin bedroom slowly coming back into focus. _He wasn’t in his bed though…he was on the far side of the room; in Sam’s bed…_ Dean gave a small start as he lifted his head up off of the pillow. Sammy was still lying beside him… _already awake, eyes glinting with shame and tears_ …his face solemn and unmoving.

Dean felt his face burn red as an awful, twisted feeling settled somewhere in his gut and gnawed away at his insides. _He wasn’t sure what had come over him last night. Why he had let things go so far between Sam and himself in this damned bed…_

They stared at each other in complete silence, as if neither dared to move or talk. Sam was barely even breathing, his heavy blinks causing tears to stick to his lashes and trail down his cheeks. _Both of them burned with shame and secrecy. They knew just how screwed in the head they were now…and they had both given into it, and now neither one could ever go back to believing that everything that they shared between each other was perfectly normal or alright._

Dean slowly slipped out of bed, his feet hitting the cold wooden floor of the cabin. _Sammy didn’t even stir…and that was okay. He’d leave the kid alone for a little while._ Dean had always struggled with feeling like crap his entire life… _but now he knew that there was truly something broken inside of him. What kinda big brother does that kinda shit to his little brother? What kinda messed up, jacked in the head person was he?_

Dean gave a start, hearing the floorboards creak from behind him. He spun around to see Sam standing there, awkwardly leaning his long frame up against the doorway.

_They looked at each other carefully, and at that moment they both knew. They would never speak of this again…it would be like it never even happened. Sure, the shame, the secrecy, and the general twisted-upness-inside would never go away. But at least they could bury it…as long as the other one promised to keep it buried too._

Dean and Sam both gave each other a small nod. _They promised. Of course they did. They would always have each other’s backs…they were brothers…they were bonded…they were everything they needed each other to be in order to survive._

Dad eventually returned home… _and only five days later_. He didn’t talk about the hunt, and neither of his sons pressed him for information. In fact, they had the Impala loaded up and ready to head out for Montana by noon, no questions asked.

Dean climbed into the shotgun seat, slamming the door shut behind him. He leaned his head up against the window… _scared of what he was actually capable of in his love for Sammy…promising he would never let it go that far again…embarrassed and ashamed of all that he had actually thought in order to justify his feelings that night_. He glanced into the rearview mirror to see Sam sitting in the backseat… _reading that big, college-edition book on psychology. Wonder what it had to say about people like them._ Dean watched his little brother for only a moment longer, his heart thudding in his chest. _Sam was only pretending that he was reading…his fingers anxiously picking at the seat cushion instead…his face flushed with guilt, as if their father could somehow read minds._

 Dean gave a hard swallow. _He would never do anything like that with Sam again. Because he loved Sammy…he loved him more than anything…and they needed each other. He couldn’t screw that up…he could never put what they had in danger again…they were bonded together, for better or for worse, and that was the most important thing in the world._

Dean glanced back out towards the open road, his shame settling like the red dust that swirled behind them…dry and heavy and clogging up his lungs and throat. _Red clay like blood…red blood like family…_

_Dean never really liked Oklahoma._

 

 

_Fin._

 

 


End file.
